It's Poetry Monday, and this week's topic is . . . CAMPING!!!
You'd think, looking at those exclamation marks, that I love camping. Hold that thought.
You, too, can pome -- write a little, write a lot, make it rhyme, make it not . . . see? that's how easy it is to join in. Leave a poem in the comments here or post on your own blog. If you do the latter, please leave a comment so we can find you and your poem.
And check out poems by Delores, MotherOwl, Mimi, and Diane in addition to mine. Enjoy!
Now back to that thought above.
Do I love camping? Is that why I'm all excited to write about this topic?
NO.
NO NO NO NO NO.
My husband likes camping, but he was a boy scout and liked
that, too, so his enthusiasm about
anything outdoorsy causes me to squint in an unbelieving manner in his direction.
But he assured me camping would be Fun. There were definite pluses to being in nature all day. The beauty of quiet forested campsites in our provincial parks, with lots of fresh air and birdsong, is still a happy memory for me; however, I was significantly
unhappy about the lack of showers or flush toilets which goes along with those provincial parks. (Have I ever mentioned I have a sensitive nose?
Oh, right; I have.)
The one trip on which we decided to "upgrade" to a private campground, I realized the showers and flush toilets and hot running water were offset by the lack of privacy that happens when campers are given ten square feet of space and who knows which folks with what questionable taste in music and parenting skills will set up next to you.
But.
We continued to camp from time to time because it was definitely less expensive than staying in other accommodations, and in theory the outdoor experience was an additional joy of being on holiday. We took our kids camping when they were old enough that they no longer required all the gear that little kids need. They seemed to enjoy it, because, let's face it, mom and dad did all the work and they had all the fun.
All the fun, that is, that
can be had on a camping trip, if I may just refresh your memory about how much I did not enjoy it. By this time in my life, I was also starting to find I could not sleep on the ground, even with an air mattress. I would wake up sore and cranky and strangely enough that did not improve my outlook at all.
Within a very few years, though, there came a time when our daughter's health did not allow travel, let alone the physical rigors of camping as accommodation. Needless to say, I didn't miss it. I don't really like to travel in the first place (I live in fervent hope that teleporting will be invented within my lifetime), and it seemed like adding insult to injury to have to travel AND live in a tent, fighting bugs and heat and rain, never getting enough sleep or getting rid of the smell of bug spray and campfire smoke, and using outdoor toilets.
I'm so excited to be able to put all of that into poetry!!!
Warning: It's a veritable ode today. You might want to get some caffeine to stay awake through the whole thing.
*****
What I Did On Summer Vacation
In days of yore, we weren't quite poor
And yet we spent vacations
Crammed inside a flimsy tent
With our closest of relations
We packed our clothes, we were prepared
For what the weather brought
Rain or sun or heat or cold
We packed an awful lot
We packed enough of kitchen stuff
To cook our meals completely
We packed the stuff wot cleans the stuff
All stuffed in boxes neatly
The tent, the pegs, the mallet too
The stove, the sleeping bags
Air mattresses and garbage bags
And wet-clothes bags and zip-loc bags
AND ALL THE FREAKIN' BAGS BAGS BAGS
. . . . . . er, where was I?
Ah, yes . . . the car was full of things
The sky was full of sun
We drove off in a happy mood
Camping! Oh, what Fun!
What fun to drive for hours to find
A spot to pitch our tent
What fun to heat our can of beans
We would have been content . . .
. . . If only there were fewer bugs
And much less of a smell
Inside the old-style wooden shacks
That made up Toilet H***
If only we had brought the things
That didn't make the list
Like pillows, sunscreen, antacids
Those are the things we missed
I wish the ground had not had rocks
The campfire had not smoked
The mattresses had not gone flat
The tent pegs had not broked
It's strange how all these details stayed
So long inside my brain
Good thing I can remember them
I'll never camp again 😉
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how my husband described it
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how it really looked, which was good, and it smelled good, too
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how the outhouses smelled, which was bad
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wimpy me (not actually me, just similar facial expression)
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*****
Here's hoping your week doesn't stink :)
Do you like to camp? Do you use a tent, or do you go in style? Or, like me, do you prefer to just stay home with your comfy bed and hot and cold running water? Please let me not be the only wimp!
Next week's topic will be ........... MARBLES!
